


Read 'Em and Weep

by cactustipper



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, alcohol but nothing too intense, also robin kinda has powers? kinda?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 12:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17224253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cactustipper/pseuds/cactustipper
Summary: He's getting married. Oh gods,he's getting married.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> takes place before robin loses his memory. includes flashbacks.

Satisfied with his work, Robin began to reroll his maps and pack them away, so that he'd be prepared for the journey back to Ylisstol in the morning. With the amount of ruffians that roamed the mountains between Ylisse's and Plegia's border, he had planned out various areas along their route the Shepherds could draw their enemies to, in the case of an attack, where terrain would agree with them and villages would be far enough away to remain safe.

He leaned back in his seat, before hearing a light rapping on wood. 

"Come in."

Robin looked up to see it was Chrom, dressed in something more casual than his usual armor. He wore a navy tunic with gold trimming and black pants.

"What's the occasion, milord?"

"You know I wish you'd stop calling me that," he replied, shutting the door behind him.

Robin smirked at his friend. "I'm fully aware."

Chrom let out a small scoff and shook his head with a smile. "Dinner will be ready soon. It sounds like we'll be lingering in Plegia for a couple days, and I guess we're having a bit of a celebration tonight."

The tactician hummed in acknowledgment, pausing in his packing and deciding to leave his maps where they were, if the Shepherds really did have a few more days before traveling back to Ylisstol.

"I… also wanted to thank you, Robin."

Robin glanced up in surprise. "Oh? Whatever for?"

"For all of your work towards ending this war," Chrom said, leaning against the doorframe. "I don't know what we'd have done without you."

"Perhaps earn a few more bruises." _And perhaps your sister might still be alive,_ Robin thought with a twinge of guilt.

"I'm serious," Chrom insisted, shaking his head. "I know it must've been very hard fighting against your native country, but you've persevered and have proven yourself invaluable as both a comrade and friend. It's rather admirable, and I'm glad to have you on our side."

Robin fought the warmth that flushed his face at Chrom's praise.

"I only did what anyone would have done," he replied, meeting the prince's gaze.

"It's just… you've given me hope, I suppose. For both of our countries."

Robin once again nodded solemnly, although biting the inside of his cheek at that comment. He had had his own reasons for helping Ylisse, namely the royal family specifically, but perhaps what he was doing was nonetheless a good thing.

"So really… thank you," Chrom finished.

He opened his mouth as if to say something more, but ultimately decided against it, and instead dipped his head. "I'll see you at dinner."

The door clicked open and shut again as the prince left, and Robin dropped his head into his hands with a groan.

Feelings. Stupid, _stupid_ feelings.  
   
 

 

   
    
"Hello, Mother. I'm sorry I wasn't earlier."

A warm breeze twirled past him, lightly picking up his coat before letting it settle back in place.

He kneeled down and ran his fingers through the grass, fascinated with how fast nature had accepted his mother into the earth, as if she had always been there. The only way one could tell something had been changed was how the field had a slight bulge to it in this spot, but otherwise, nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

While his mother had appreciated Ylisse in life, he knew how she longed to be able to see Plegia again. He would've liked to lay her body to rest there, but with how things had been since his birth, it would've been too risky to return.

This field near Southtown had been one of her favorite places in Ylisse. Not the capital, not the villages, not even the forests. Just a nice, little, open field.

She used to say how the gentle slopes of the landscape always reminded her of the desert. How if she closed her eyes on a warm summer day, she could almost feel the sand beneath her feet.

He grimaced slightly at that thought. He wished he could share the sentiment, but Ylisse had mostly been all he had ever known. Perhaps one day he'd return to the desert himself, but… it was best not to get his hopes up.

"Are you alright?"

He looked over his shoulder, up at the young man with blue hair, perhaps his own age standing above him. He wore a dark tunic with asymmetrical sleeves and pants, a pauldron on his shoulder, and a white cape. A girl was on his arm, with curly blond twintails, a yellow dress, and a staff. Further behind them was a mounted knight with brown hair, and blue—teal?—tinted armor.

His eyes then drifted to the blue-haired man's bare arm, which had a tear drop shaped marking with a half ring around it, spiked both on the tips and at the bottom.

_Ah. The Brand._

He carefully rose to his feet, offering a small smile as he removed his hood.

"Yes, thank you, sire."

The man lifted an eyebrow. "You know who I am?"

He nodded. "His Highness Prince Chrom, brother to her Grace, Exalt Emmeryn."

"Heh, yes. Though I've never been one for formalities."

"One can never be too careful. Did you need something, milord?"

"No, I suppose not," the prince replied. "It just looked from where we were that you may have dropped to your knees, perhaps from a wound."

He hummed in acknowlegement. "Kneeling alone in the middle of a field would seem strange from an outside point of view."

The knight behind him made a point to loudly clear his throat.

"Seeing as this man isn't harmed, if it pleases milord, we should be continuing with our patrol."

Chrom looked back at him. "Peace, Frederick. We haven't seen anything all day; we aren't in any hurry."

"Yeah, don't mind him, he's always grumpy about _something_ ," the girl nudged him lightly. "I'm Lissa, Chrom's sister. That's Frederick, our guardian. But sometimes? It feels like _we're_ the ones guarding _him_."

"Ah, Princess Lissa. Forgive my poor manners," he replied, then took a bow.

"If you feel true remorse," the knight cut in, wedging himself between Lissa and the stranger, "then perhaps you wouldn't mind sharing your identity. And what a man of your nationality is doing so far from the border."

"Frederick—"

"It's quite alright, your Highness," he said good-naturedly, "I understand his position. My name is Robin, and as observed, I hail from Plegia. I hate to admit it, but I've claimed the informal status of refugee." _Well,_ something _like that, anyways,_ Robin thought. It wasn't an outright lie, but it wasn't the entire truth either.

"Informal?" Chrom asked. "You mean illegally? Not that I have any problem with it—"

"Yes, sire."

"Perhaps we can get that fixed, then. You can travel with us back to Ylisstol."

 _"What?"_ Frederick blurted out before recovering a second later. Robin couldn't help but share the sentiment. Carefully, he let his being extend to Chrom's, expecting to find an underlying cause, but only genuity took place in his aura. He couldn't believe it; the prince of Ylisse would really travel with a complete stranger just to get him an official refugee status? That was… infinitely more than Robin could hope for, to get access to the best resources Ylisse's royalty could provide, to see what was known on the dragon called Grima…

"Pardon me, milord, but this is a total stranger we've _only_ —"

"What do we do as Shepherds, Frederick?" Chrom asked patiently.

"Help those in need," the knight answered quickly, "but milord—"

The prince raised his hand, and Frederick stopped, getting the message.

"Shepherds?" Robin said, once the conversation had diffused. "Your Highness, I did not take a man of your station to raise sheep."

"Let's just say we gotta _lotta_ sheep," Lissa waved her staff. "So can we head back now?"

"Yes, I'd say so, Lissa," Chrom turned around, "Let's get…"

 _"Chrom!"_ his sister cried, pointing to the horizon.

Robin followed her finger, stunned to see smoke rising from a village approximately half a mile away. If he hadn't left the inn there that morning to visit his mother's grave…

"Frederick," Chrom took a tone of command. "Ride ahead and help any stragglers. We'll catch up."

The mounted knight saluted, then took the reigns of his horse and steered towards the town.

As Lissa ran too, the prince turned to Robin. "Can you fight?"

The Plegian revealed the tome and sword hanging inside of his coat. Chrom looked pleasantly surprised, then nodded, beckoning for Robin to follow as he charged across the field, towards the inferno that was the village.

He began to run too.  
   
 

 

   
   
"I can't believe he'll be Exalt so soon. It always felt like Emm would be around forever…"

Robin pushed his potatoes around with his fork while Lissa spoke next to him. Chrom had tried to keep her from coming to the battle with Gangrel, for fear of her getting hurt. Robin couldn't say he didn't have his own misgivings when it came to the remaining members of Ylissean royalty participating in the battle, as Chrom had been nearly assassinated along with Emmeryn. If only Robin had acted fast enough that night, instead of having a panic attack from the idea that Chrom wouldn't wake up the next morning…

The prince nudged him with his elbow, drawing him from his thoughts. "You alright? You've hardly touched your food."

Chrom sat at the head of the table, while Robin sat to his right at the end. Typically, Robin waited for everyone else to choose their seats before taking his own, but Chrom had made the tactician sit near him, insisting Robin was most responsible for their victory over Gangrel.

"Yes," Robin said, lifting his fork to his mouth to make a point. "Just thinking."

"Enough of that," Chrom waved his hand dismissively, then tapped a finger on the rim of Robin's glass. "Relax, friend. It's our night. We might not have this again until the dust of war settles in Ylisstol."

 _Our night…_ "Alright, alright, but I don't need liquor to do it."

The prince chuckled. "Fair enough."

The idea of being impaired was… _unfavorable_. The three pairs of eyes just below his knuckles promised Robin had the potential of something inhuman, and that same power in his body thrummed with each spell he cast, each swing of his sword. The ability of how he could almost, _almost_ know what others were thinking, how he saw things that everyone else could not. The last thing such a combination needed was the unknown and even lethal danger of intoxication.

Perhaps there were more fears beneath that one as well, fears that had started brewing ever since the victory in the tournament back in Ferox. Emotions and feelings that needed to remain hidden and unsaid, or else would surely cloud his judgment; someone with a situation as dire as Robin's couldn't afford such a luxury.

 _I came to Ylisse with a mission, and that is all I intend to do,_ Robin thought, side-glancing Chrom, who had moved from his seat and was arm-wrestling with Vaike across the table. _My personal life was never apart of the equation._

"Hey, Robin?"

He twisted around in his chair, looking up at the person standing over him. "Hello Cordelia. What can I do for you?"

She shifted her weight between her feet. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

He rose from his seat, earning him a questioning look from Chrom, who now had Vaike's arm against the table. Robin raised a finger as if to say, 'One second,' and followed Cordelia out of the dining room and into the hallway.

"Something wrong?" he asked, once they were away from the clamor of the celebration.

"I was wondering if… you, uh, knew who Chrom would be marrying?" Cordelia stuttered, color rushing into her cheeks.

Robin blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I assumed since you two were close, you might know."

"Is Chrom getting married?" Robin attempted to keep his tone even and casual, but he felt like he'd fall over any moment.

Cordelia slightly tilted her head to the side. "Each exalt in Ylisse is typically married before taking the throne. I suppose it isn't like that in Plegia."

His heart dropped, and he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat. "I see. Regardless, Chrom hasn't said anything to me."

"Ah, alright," Cordelia nodded her head a little too fast. "Thank you for humoring me."

Robin gave a little wave as the pegasus knight returned to the dining room, before collapsing against the wall, then sinking to the floor. His powers could still pick up infatuation and anxiety, now mixed with confusion from the woman. He let his mind wander into Chrom's head, who was still in the other room, but besides minor enjoyment from the party, only a fog of distraction was present in the prince's thoughts.

Straining himself, Robin pushed through the fog (albeit guiltily for trying to read Chrom's mind), and was immediately drowned in the murkiness that was his friend's trepidation, frustration, and most vibrant of all, _love_ , so similar to Robin's own emotions for the prince.

The over-saturation of feeling ejected the tactician from the other man's thoughts, leaving him with his eyes squeezed shut and a throbbing in his temple at forcefully being sent back into his own head.

It only hammered home what Robin had already learned; he's getting married. Oh gods, _he's getting married._ Robin had been aware this day would come eventually, but he hadn't expected it to come so soon and to hit him like a ton of dragonstones. _I can't be apart of his life. I've known this the whole time I've been here,_ he thought, carding a hand through his hair. _So why do I feel like this?_

He knew the prince had his own predestined path and was likely to settle down one day, whether it be by his own choice or by the requirement of the role he had been born into. Robin had fought day and night to make peace with that fact, and that perhaps, if luck favored it, he would be long gone from Ylisse before he would ever have to see it. It looked like, however, luck had other plans in mind for him.

Letting out a shaky sigh and holding most of his weight with the aid of the wall, he managed to will himself back to his feet. _Pull yourself together_ , Robin told himself with a deep breath. _Just get through the rest of this damn party, then you'll be back to the safety of your room._

After taking a minute to muster his strength, Robin returned to the dining room. Half of the Shepherds were sitting near the other end of the table, where Gregor was leading them in drinking songs. The remaining Shepherds who weren't buzzed enough to join in watched with amusement while chatting amongst themselves. Chrom had moved to Lissa's seat right of Robin's, and the princess was sitting next to Maribelle further down the table.

"Hey," Chrom greeted him as the tactician thumped into his seat. "What did Cordelia want?"

His eyes widened as Robin picked up his glass and took a gulp of liquor. After, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, hiding the pursing of his lips at the taste of the drink. "Just tossing around ideas for Nowi's birthday next month," he said casually. "Dragon hearing and all."

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that," Chrom joked, and Robin followed his gaze to the bubbly manakete on Gregor's shoulders.

Robin hardly acknowledged it before taking another swig of his drink, self-consciously avoiding Chrom's concerned stare. He already felt bad enough about his impulsive behavior; he didn't need the prince judging him as well. Chrom _himself_ had told him to let go.

He suddenly clutched Robin's shoulder, glancing over his own to make sure none of the attention was on he and the tactician. Once confirming it, his voice dropped to a whisper.

"What's going on with you?" His clear, blue eyes locked with Robin's dull, brown ones.

His skin crawled, all of his attention in the grip of Chrom's hand, holding him steady, while the alcohol bubbled in his bloodstream, blurring his thoughts and unravelling him…

"Robin? What did Cordelia say to you?"

The tactician blinked. _I just want to forget._ "I just want to relax for one night." Thank gods he sounded infinitely more sure than he felt.

The prince didn't seem convinced, a firm frown etched into his features, but dropped his hand regardless, defusing all feeling in Robin's body, the tension of the moment dissipating just the same. He had to restrain himself from reaching out for Chrom, desperately wanting the comfort that always accompanied the other man's touch.

"I won't push if you don't want me to," Chrom said slowly, taking on an unreadable expression, "but I do plan on checking up on you tomorrow. It's getting late, and I have a meeting to attend in the morning, so I'm going to turn in for the night. Take care of yourself." The other man watched him for a moment longer, before standing and promptly exiting the dining room.

It took a second for Robin's sluggish brain to catch up and register Chrom was gone. _What just happened?_ he thought, staring at the seat his friend had been in a minute ago.

He caught a curious look from Cordelia at the other end of the table. The tactician just shrugged and set his gaze down on his glass, curling his fingers protectively around it.

So what if he had only started drinking over losing Chrom's heart? He could look after himself just fine. After all, he had been doing it for around seven years now.  
   
 

 

   
    
"You know, you're not very good at this."

The tip of Chrom's training sword was inches from Robin's chest, declaring the prince, once again, the winner of their spar.

He knew Chrom was only teasing, as the two always made a great match against one another. But as the sword was the prince's main weapon, and Robin's was the tome, Chrom almost always came out on top when it was down to sparring. Robin could trick him with mind games, but with the will and force the prince attacked with, it was always only a matter of time.

"It wouldn't do to make our leader seem unskilled," Robin responded with a smirk, accepting the other man's outstretched hand, pulling him to his feet.

"Always thinking of the big picture."

"Almost like it's my _job_ or something."

It had been a month since Robin had joined Chrom's army as his chief tactician, the position amongst the Shepherds fitting him like a glove. Even Frederick admitted to his skill and often consulted supplies and training courses for the other soldiers with him.

The militia was now stationed at Regna Ferox on a mission for an alliance to deal with the shared threat of Plegia. The tournament had resulted in a victory for the East Khan, Flavia, and ensured Feroxi support in the war.

The Shepherds were set to leave in the morning, but with Robin being fully packed and ready to go, he spent the remainder of the evening training and further honing his body and mind.

"It still catches me off guard how adept you are in battle."

Robin looked at Chrom curiously. The statement had come out of nowhere.

"Oh?" he said, "And why is that?"

"It isn't everyday you come across a strategical genius," the prince replied. "Also, it's freezing out here."

The tactician laughed as the two returned their borrowed sparring blades to the Feroxi people in charge of the native army's convoy, before going inside.

"You do find countrymen who know their way around a blade, or perhaps village students who can wield a tome," Chrom continued as he walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Robin to the tactician's quarters.

The prince then quickly added, knowing he had implied his friend was hiding something, "I do mean to respect your privacy, Robin. It's only idle curiosity, but nothing that needs to indulged."

For the past month, in between training and traveling to Regna Ferox, Robin had attempted to keep somewhat to himself, but was drawn out by the welcoming nature of his fellow Shepherds. He did, however, remain keeping his life and intentions secret, but had found himself attracted to Chrom's presence, who was kind, honest, and a remarkable leader. Robin had slowly revealed to the prince more and more about both himself and his origins.

"It's quite alright, Chrom. I understand," Robin said, with a small smile. "As you know, I came to Ylisse with my mother alone as a young child. From across the border, my mother kept tabs on my father and his men. He was attempting to kidnap me and to bring me back to Plegia." _Not to mention he wanted to use me as a weapon against humanity as the Heart of Grima_ , he thought with a small frown.

"Fathers, am I right?"

The tactician laughed before going on. "Yeah. Anyways, my mother thought it best to arm me with knowledge, and I'm glad she did. My father's been attempting to cause war with Ylisse and has been garnering political power for years now. I always knew my role was against him."

"So she wanted you to stop him."

Robin nodded. "She had intended to help me, but she was killed by his men before she ever had the chance."

Chrom's lip quirked in acknowledgment as the two arrived at Robin's door. The tactician hovered a moment, but the prince remained silent.

"Don't worry about it, Chrom," Robin said, after the prince didn't respond. "I've long since made peace with what I was born into." _Perhaps not with who I am as Grima's Vessel, but that's for another time._ "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Wait."

Chrom grabbed Robin's wrist before he could twist the doorknob. He turned and looked questioningly at the prince, wondering what was going through his head.

"I'm sorry for how my father treated your country. I know that doesn't mend past mistakes, but I promise to try and end this war with no more lives taken than necessary." Chrom's eyes were on his, serious, combined with something more within their depths. "On _both_ sides."

Robin blinked, surprised by how honest he seemed.

"Your mother's death wasn't in vain. You're very strong to have come this far, and… I want you to know you're not alone anymore." The prince released his grip, dropping his hand to his side. "Have a good night, Robin."

Chrom lingered a moment before turning and disappearing further down the hallway into his own quarters. Robin was left at his door, his brain working through what Chrom had said and how he felt about it. Felt about Chrom's trust, his honesty, his inflection. His _care_.

He then lightly shook his head to clear it, and went into his bedroom, securely locking the door behind him.  
   
 

 

   
   
The next morning, the hangover hit.

He really should've taken it easy, unknowing how he'd have handled the alcohol after avoiding it for so long, but it was a _bit_ too late for that.

Robin urged himself to continue his periodic dreamlessness for the rest of the morning, his head pounding painfully each time he woke up. Finally, around noon, hunger drew him from his bed, and he exited his room to find something to eat.

He headed to the kitchen for something that wouldn't irritate his stomach any further than it already was, and for a meal that wouldn't take long to prepare. Eventually, he settled on a bowl of oatmeal and pieces of dried mango.

The tactician carried his breakfast back to his room, and upon rounding the corner of the hallway, caught Chrom's eye. The prince was leaning against the wall, outside of Robin's open bedroom door.

Guilt washed over him at his reaction to Cordelia's news the previous night, and he stood still as Chrom approached him.

"How are you feeling?"

Robin blinked at him, as he had been expecting something more confrontational.

"A tad hungover, but I'll be fine."

Chrom hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes elsewhere as he asked, "Is it alright if we talk in your room?"

Robin gave a small nod, moving past the prince to lead them back to his quarters. Once entering his room, Robin sat down at his desk with his breakfast. Chrom followed him in, gently closing the door behind himself.

"May I…?"

"Of course."

The prince dragged a reading chair from the corner of the room to the right side of Robin's desk. He then settled into the recliner, his lips pursed as he carefully watched the tactician bring his spoon to his lips.

Uncertainty radiated in waves off of Chrom, and Robin tried desperately to block the feeling in his mind. He preferred not to use those inhuman powers provided by his blood to read his friends (the previous night was an exception), and instead only in the tides of battle, but the intensity of the prince's emotions was something he was incapable of ignoring.

"What are your plans?"

He looked at the other man. "What?"

Chrom raised his gaze, yet not enough to quite meet Robin's eyes. "You know, with the war being over."

He could almost feel Chrom's heartbeat thundering in the space between them. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I figured…" The prince swallowed. "I figured you might… be going home."

 _Home?_ It took a moment before it dawned on him what Chrom meant. He was asking if Robin planned to stay in Plegia. He remembered the conversation he had shared with Chrom before the party, how his friend had stopped himself from saying anything more. _How long has he been worrying about this?_

"No, I… I don't know. Maybe," Robin hesitated, searching Chrom's eyes. He still wasn't satisfied with what little he had learned about Grima and his own predicament, but… he wasn't sure he could take the heartbreak of sticking around. Unable to hold himself back, he asked quietly, "Who… who is she?"

Chrom only stared in response, lack of understanding replacing his anxiety. "What do you mean?"

The tactician let out a shaky breath. "I mean… who… who are you marrying? And… why didn't you tell me?" It was a dangerous game to play, almost admitting his feelings in why he'd be asking such a thing. Robin knew that, but he needed to know. He needed the closure of this period in his life that only _her_ name could provide.

Chrom's eyebrows furrowed. "Marrying…? Robin, I'm not…" He paused, struggling for words. _"…Huh?"_

 _"Don't."_ It came out much more harshly than Robin intended, but it was too late to take it back. "Cordelia told me you'd have to marry before being crowned the exalt. Don't lie to me, Chrom." Sickness settled in the pit of his stomach as he spat out each word, uncontrollable shuddering accompanying his sentences. He couldn't hold it together and hide, not like this; not in front of Chrom.

"Robin, wait." The prince reached for his friend's shoulder, but the tactician pulled away, knowing he'd cry the second he made contact. "Robin!"

 _"I don't want to hear it!"_ Robin shouted, shooting up from his chair and quaking violently. _"Just tell me her damn **name!"**_

Chrom flung himself to his feet. **_"Would you listen to me for one damn second?"_** the other man boomed, silencing Robin immediately. He seemed much bigger and immensely intimidating, as if he were leaning over Robin despite only being a few inches taller than him. He dimly wondered if this was how the prince's foes felt when facing Chrom on the battlefield. Upon further examination, his cheeks were flushed and water welled in his eyes, and Robin had no doubt the look was reflected in his own face.

Chrom waited a moment, and Robin kept his lips sealed. The prince then let out a heavy sigh, the flame of his anger flickering out into embers. "Robin," his voice had dropped several decibels, "there is no _'her.'"_

His heart stopped. _What?_ "I don't…"

Chrom turned away, looking out the window. "The Ylissean Council's hounded me for months about it, but I couldn't bring myself to commit to someone without saying anything." He glanced over his shoulder, back at Robin. "…Especially not with you around."

"But…" The tactician's voice was failing as his tears finally spilled over. He hiccuped, then choked out, "Why didn't you _tell_ me…?"

"Same reason as you," Chrom answered, facing Robin again and taking his hands. "I… didn't know you felt the _same_ —at least, not until a minute ago."

He searched his friend's face for any sign of sarcasm, or doubt, or… _whatever,_ but Chrom only wore a tender expression, full of concern and love and all of those things Robin had secretly wished for for a long time. All of those things were focused on him, and him alone, and he let out a sob, slamming himself into Chrom's chest. The prince's arms immediately wrapped themselves around the tactician as he cried into his expensive tunic that would probably have to be replaced after this whole fiasco. Chrom gently rested his chin in Robin's hair and rubbed soothing circles on his back, whispering, "It's okay," and "Let it out." Chrom didn't audibly cry or shake along with Robin, but he was certain tears still stained the other man's cheeks. The small, damp spots on his scalp moments later only confirmed it.

After what felt like an hour, Robin had finally cried himself out, and the throbbing in his head from his hangover had returned. He let Chrom take the majority of his weight, with his face still buried into his friend. He tried to speak, but it only came out muffled.

"What was that?" Chrom asked softly.

Robin turned his head to the side. "What do we _do?"_ he croaked. When the prince didn't reply, he specified, "About the Council, your country, _everything…"_

"We'll figure it out," he murmured, tilting his head to meet Robin's eyes.

"I promise."


	2. Chapter 2

"Chrom."

The creature with rotting gray skin blinked slowly and tilted his head with a hideous creak, caught off guard by the name that had been left for dead, just as his own body, so long ago.

Despite the words coming out of his own mouth,—sort of—Robin perked up at the name as well. The Fell Dragon usually just referred to him as 'Exalt' or 'Brand bearer' these days. Something so beneath him hardly deserved a proper name.

"Play with those Shepherd brats for awhile, would you? Take Morgan and all of the Risen you can find. I have some business to attend."

The zombie let out a grunt in reply, and yet he was still much more eloquent than the rest of his species. He lumbered away, armor unceremoniously clattering around as he went.

With Chrom's death along with the rest of Robin's friends, the former tactician typically spent the eternity of his personal hell in the back of Grima's mind, blocking out the sick, twisted world as much as he possibly could. At first, he made as much of a fuss as he could in attempt to distract Grima, but as always, it was a losing battle. Ever since he had gone silent, Grima had gone silent to him as well, not even acknowledging Robin inside of him. Perhaps even forgetting he existed in the first place.

Robin's silence had been in wanting to escape as much pain as he could originally, but maybe, just maybe he could use Grima's ignorance of him against him. The start of this little plan just needed the knowledge of whatever this ' _business_ ' was.

 

 

 

Grima transformed back into his vessel's body upon landing on Mount Prism. He snorted at the presence of the glowing cyan portal, symbolizing Chrom's failure at killing those young pests. He supposed it was his fault for toying with his food for so long instead of decimating them in the beginning, but it was only a minor setback; nothing that couldn't be mended. At least his army of corpses had had the sense to give chase into the past.

Discarding these thoughts, the Fell Dragon leaped into Naga's portal, anticipating the gory securing of his future. The only real future.

 

 

 

Anxiety twisted within whatever part of his being Robin had left. Grima had taken them back in time, before everything had dived head-first into disaster.

It was early morning, just past dawn if Robin had judged it correctly. It had been so long since he had seen a clear sky, not cluttered with smoke and perpetual black clouds…

Robin recalled this day with a stunning amount of clarity. He remembered the wonderful pancakes that had been freshly made at the inn he had been staying at, the thin yet delicious maple syrup that had been provided with a cup of coffee, all homemade.

He shared a nice conversation with the innkeeper, who had a cheerful attitude despite the early hour. The man had wished him luck before he set out to his mother's resting place. Robin didn't believe in things like destiny, but he couldn't help but wonder that if he had returned the sentiment, that the town wouldn't have gone up in blaze later that same day.

He and Grima now stood just twenty feet behind Robin's past self. How his twin's powers didn't pick up the ominous presence of the Fell Dragon, he wasn't entirely sure, perhaps something about being fully invested in mourning his mother and attributing any odd feelings to his grief, if he had to guess.

 _Are you ready to see your life destroyed again?_ Grima asked Robin silently, a devious smirk rising on his lips.

It was the only warning Robin had before their body was encased in tendrils of darkness. A piercing screech emitted from Grima, as the past Robin started in surprise and terror. Grima shot forward, outstretching their hands, which had changed into monstrous black claws, ready to take the soul of his former self.

 _ **"No!"**_ the distorted scream came unwillingly from the dragon's lips, as searing fire burst from the deepest depths of his heart.

Hot light blinded him, and everything went numb as he collided with the old Robin.

 

 

 

"Chrom, we have to do _something_."

"What do you propose we do?"

"I… I dunno!"

"…I see you're awake now."

"Hey there."

"There're better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know. Give me your hand."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> future robin is the reason grima couldnt combine himself and take over past robin, resulting in robins memory loss :^)
> 
> as always, thanks for reading.


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